by Daniel Defoe
Nay, by the same Rule, said I, he may swear, that I murther’d my Husband, if he finds it for his Turn: That’s true, said he; and if he shou’d, I do not see what cou’d save you; but added, I have found out his more immediate Design; his Design is to have you carried to the Chatellette,126 that the Suspicion may appear just; and then to get the Jewels out of your Hands, if possible; then, at last, to drop the Prosecution, on your consenting to quit the Jewels to him; and how you will do to avoid this, is the Question, which I would have you consider of.
My Misfortune, Sir, said I, is, that I have no Time to consider, and I have no Person to consider with, or advise about it; I find, that Innocence may be oppress’d by such an impudent Fellow as this; he that does not value a Perjury, has any Man’s Life at his Mercy; but Sir, said I, is the Justice such here, that while I may be in the Hands of the Publick, and under Prosecution, he may get hold of my Effects, and get my Jewels into his Hands?
I don’t know, says he, what may be done in that Case; but if not he, if the Court of Justice shou’d get hold of them, I do not know but you may find it as difficult to get them out of their Hands again, and, at least, it may cost you half as much as they are worth; so I think it would be a much better Way, to prevent their coming at them at-all.
But what Course can I take to do that, says I, now they have got Notice, that I have them? If they get me into their Hands, they will oblige me to produce them, or perhaps, sentence me to Prison till I do.
Nay, says he, as this Brute says too, put you to the Question, that is, to the Torture, on Pretence of making you confess who were the Murtherers of your Husband.
Confess! says I; how can I confess what I know nothing of?
If they come to have you to the Rack, said he, they will make you confess you did it yourself, whether you did it or no, and then you are cast.127
The very word Rack frighted me to Death almost, and I had no Spirit left in me: Did it myself! said I; that’s impossible!
No, Madam, says he, ’tis far from impossible; the most innocent People in the World have been forc’d to confess themselves Guilty of what they never heard of, much less, had any Hand in.
What then must I do? said I; what wou’d you advise me to?
Why, says he, I wou’d advise you to be gone; you intended to go away in four or five Days, and you may as well go in two Days; and if you can do so, I shall manage it so, that he shall not suspect your being gone, for several Days after: Then he told me, how the Rogue wou’d have me order’d to bring the Jewels the next Day, for Sale; and that then he wou’d have me apprehended; how he had made the Jew believe he wou’d join with him in his Design; and that he [the Merchant] wou’d get the Jewels into his Hands: Now, says the Merchant, I shall give you Bills for the Money you desir’d, immediately, and such as shall not fail of being paid; take your Jewels with you, and go this very Evening to St. Germains en Lay; I’ll send a Man thither with you, and from thence, he shall guide you to-Morrow, to Roan,l28 where there lies a Ship of mine, just ready to sail for Rotterdam; you shall have your Passage in that Ship, on my Account, and I will send Orders for him to sail as soon as you are on Board, and a Letter to my Friend at Rotterdam, to Entertain and take Care of you.
This was too kind an Offer for me, as things stood, not to be accepted, and be thankful for; and as to going away, I had prepar’d every thing for parting; so that I had little to do, but to go back, take two or three Boxes and Bundles, and such things, and my Maid Amy, and be gone.
Then the Merchant told me the Measures he had resolv’d to take to delude the Jew, while I made my Escape, which were very well contriv’d indeed: FIRST, said he, when he comes to-Morrow, I shall tell him, that I propos’d to you, to leave the Jewels with me, as we agreed; but that you said, you wou’d come and bring them in the Afternoon, so that we must stay for you till four a-Clock; but then, at that time, I will show a Letter from you, as if just come in, wherein you shall excuse your not coming; for that some Company came to visit you, and prevented you; but that you desire me to take Care that the Gentleman be ready to buy your Jewels; and that you will come to Morrow, at the same Hour, without fail.
When to-Morrow is come, we shall wait at the Time, but you not appearing, I shall seem most dissatisfied, and wonder what can be the Reason; and so we shall agree to go the next Day to get out a Process against you; but the next Day, in the Morning, I’ll send to give him Notice, that you have been at my House, but he not being there, have made another Appointment, and that I desire to speak with him; when he comes, I’ll tell him, you appear perfectly blind, as to your Danger; and that you appear’d much disappointed that he did not come, tho’ you cou’d not meet the Night before; and oblig’d me to have him here to-Morrow at three a-Clock; when to-Morrow comes, says he, you shall send word, that you are taken so ill, that you cannot come out for that Day; but that you will not fail the next Day; and the next Day you shall neither come or send, nor let us ever hear any more of you; for by that time you shall be in Holland, if you please.
I cou’d not but approve all his Measures, seeing they were so well contriv’d, and in so friendly a Manner, for my Benefit; and as he seem’d to be so very sincere, I resolv’d to put my Life in his Hands: Immediately I went to my Lodgings, and sent away Amy with such Bundles as I had prepar’d for my Travelling; I also sent several Parcels of my fine Furniture to the Merchant’s House, to be laid up for me, and bringing the Key of the Lodgings with me, I came back to his House: Here we finish’d our Matters of Money; and I deliver’d into his Hands seven Thousand eight Hundred Pistoles129 in Bills and Money; a Copy of an Assignment on the Town-House130 of Paris, for 4000 Pistoles, at 3 per Cent. Interest, attested; and a Procuration131 for receiving the Interest half-yearly; but the Original I kept myself.
I cou’d have trusted all I had with him, for he was perfectly honest, and had not the least View of doing me any Wrong; indeed, after it was so apparent that he had, as it were, sav’d my Life, or at least, sav’d me from being expos’d and ruin’d; I say, after this, how cou’d I doubt him in any thing?
When I came to him, he had every-thing ready as I wanted, and as he had propos’d; as to my Money, he gave me first of all an accepted Bill, payable at Rotterdam, for 4000 Pistoles, and drawn from Genoa upon a Merchant at Rotterdam, payable to a Merchant at Paris, and endors’d by him to my Merchant; this he assur’d me wou’d be punctually paid, and so it was, to a Day; the rest I had in other Bills of Exchange, drawn by himself upon other Merchants in Holland: Having secur’d my Jewels too, as well as I cou’d, he sent me away the same Evening in a Friend’s Coach, which he had procur’d for me, to St. Germains, and the next Morning to Roan; he also sent a Servant of his own, on Horseback, with me, who provided every thing for me, and who carried his Orders to the Captain of the Ship, which lay about three Miles below Roan, in the River, and by his Directions I went immediately on Board: The third Day after I was on Board, the Ship went away, and we were out at Sea the next Day after that; and thus I took my Leave of France, and got clear of an ugly Business, which, had it gone on, might have ruin’d me, and sent me back as Naked to England, as I was a little before I left it.
And now Amy and I were at Leisure to look upon the Mischiefs that we had escap’d; and had I had any Religion, or any Sence of a Supreme Power managing, directing, and governing in both Causes and Events in this World, such a Case as this wou’d have given any-body room to have been very thankful to the Power who had not only put such a Treasure into my Hand, but given me such an Escape from the Ruin that threaten’d me; but I had none of those things about me; I had indeed, a grateful Sence upon my Mind of the generous Friendship of my Deliverer, the Dutch Merchant; by whom I was so faithfully serv’d, and by whom, as far as relates to second Causes,132 I was preserv’d from Destruction.
I say, I had a grateful Sence upon my Mind, of his Kindness and Faithfulness to me, and I resolv’d to show him some Testimony of it, as soon as I came to the End of my Rambles, for I was yet but in a State
of Uncertainty, and sometimes that gave me a little Uneasiness too; I had Paper indeed, for my Money, and he had shew’d himself very good to me, in conveying me away, as above: But I had not seen the End of things yet; for unless the Bills were paid, I might still be a great Loser by my Dutchman, and he might, perhaps, have contriv’d all that Affair of the Jew, to put me into a Fright, and get me to run away, and that, as if it were to save my Life; that if the Bills should be refus’d, I was cheated, with a Witness, and the like; but these were but Surmises, and indeed, were perfectly without Cause; for the honest Man acted as honest Men always do; with an upright and disinterested Principle; and with a Sincerity not often to be found in the World; what Gain he made by the Exchange, was just, and was nothing but what was his Due, and was in the Way of his Business; but otherwise he made no Advantage of me at-all.
When I pass’d in the Ship between Dover and Callais, and saw Beloved England once more under my View; England, which I counted my Native Country; being the Place I was bred up in, tho’ not born there; a strange kind of Joy possess’d my Mind, and I had such a longing Desire to be there, that I would have given the Master of the Ship twenty Pistoles to have stood-over, and set me on shore in the Downs; and when he told me he cou’d not do it, that is, that he durst not do it, if I wou’d have given him an hundred Pistoles, I secretly wish’d, that a Storm wou’d rise, that might drive the Ship over to the Coast of England, whether they wou’d or not, that I might be set on Shore any-where upon English Ground.
This wicked Wish had not been out of my Thoughts above two or three Hours, but the Master steering away to the North, as was his Course to do, we lost Sight of Land on that Side, and only had the Flemish Shore in View on our Right-hand, or, as the Seamen call it, the Starboard-Side; and then with the Loss of the Sight, the Wish for Landing in England, abated; and I consider’d how foolish it was to wish myself out of the Way of my Business; that if I had been on Shore in England, I must go back to Holland, on account of my Bills, which were so considerable, and I having no Correspondence there, that I cou’d not have manag’d it, without going myself: But we had not been out of Sight of England many Hours, before the Weather began to change, the Winds whistl’d, and made a Noise, and the Seamen said to one-another, that it would Blow hard at Night: It was then about two Hours before Sun-set, and we were pass’d by Dunkirk, and I think they said we were in sight of Ostend; but then the Wind grew high, and the Sea swell’d, and all things look’d terrible, especially to us, that understood nothing but just what we saw before us; in short, Night came on, and very dark it was, the Wind freshen’d; and blew harder and harder, and about two Hours within Night, it blew a terrible Storm.
I was not quite a Stranger to the Sea, having come from Rochelle133 to England, when I was a Child, and gone from London, by the River Thames, to France afterward, as I have said: But I began to be alarm’d a little with the terrible Clamour of the Men over my Head, for I had never been in a Storm, and so had never seen the like, or heard it; and once, offering to look out at the Door of the Steerage, as they call’d it, it struck me with such Horrour, the darkness, the fierceness of the Wind, the dreadful height of the Waves, and the Hurry134 the Dutch Sailors were in, whose Language I did not understand one Word of; neither when they curs’d, or when they pray’d; I say, all these things together, fill’d me with Terror; and, in short, I began to be very much frighted.
When I was come back into the Great-Cabbin, there sat Amy, who was very Sea-sick, and I had a little before given her a Sup135 of Cordial-waters, to help her Stomach: When Amy saw me come back, and sit down without speaking, for so I did, she look’d two or three times up at me, at last she came running to me, Dear Madam! says she, what is the Matter? what makes you look so pale? why, you a’nt well; what is the Matter? I said nothing still, but held up my Hands two or three times; Amy doubl’d her Importunities; upon that, I said no more, but, step to the Steerage-Door, and look out, as I did; so she went away immediately, and look’d too, as I had bidden her; but the poor Girl came back again in the greatest Amazement and Horrour, that ever I saw any poor Creature in, wringing her Hands, and crying out she was undone! she was undone! she shou’d be drown’d! they were all lost! Thus she ran about the Cabbin like a mad thing, and as perfectly out of her Senses, as any one in such a Case cou’d be suppos’d to be.
I was frighted myself; but when I saw the Girl in such a terrible Agony, it brought me a little to myself, and I began to talk to her, and put her in a little Hope; I told her, there was many a Ship in a Storm, that was not cast-away; and I hop’d we shou’d not be drown’d; that it was true, the Storm was very dreadful, but I did not see that the Seamen were so much concern’d as we were; and so I talk’d to her as well as I cou’d, tho’ my Heart was full enough of it, as well as Amy’s, and Death began to stare in my Face, ay, and some-thing else too, that is to say, Conscience, and my Mind was very much disturb’d, but I had nobody to comfort me.
But Amy being in so much worse a Condition, that is to say, so much more terrify’d at the Storm, than I was, I had something to do to comfort her; she was, as I have said, like one distracted, and went raving about the Cabbin, crying out, she was undone! undone! she shou’d be drown’d, and the like; and at last, the Ship giving a Jerk, by the Force, I suppose, of some violent Wave, it threw poor Amy quite down, for she was weak enough before, with being Sea-sick, and as it threw her forward, the poor Girl struck her Head against the Bulk-head, as the Seamen call it, of the Cabbin, and laid her as dead as a Stone, upon the Floor, or Deck, that is to say, she was so to all Apearance.
I cry’d out for Help; but it had been all one, to have cry’d out on the top of a Mountain, where no-body had been within five Miles of me; for the Seamen were so engag’d, and made so much Noise, that no-body heard me, or came near me; I open’d the Great-Cabbin Door, and look’d into the Steerage, to cry for Help, but there, to encrease my Fright, was two Seamen on their Knees, at Prayers, and only one Man who steer’d, and he made a groaning Noise too, which I took to be saying his Prayers, but it seems it was answering to those above, when they call’d to him, to tell him which Way to steer.
Here was no Help for me, or for poor Amy, and there she lay still so, and in such a Condition, that I did not know whether she was dead or alive; in this Fright I went to her, and lifted her a little way up, setting her on the Deck, with her Back to the Boards of the Bulk-head, and I got a little Bottle out of my Pocket, and I held it to her Nose, and rubb’d her Temples, and what else I could do, but still Amy shew’d no Signs of Life, till I felt for her Pulse, but could hardly distinguish her to be alive; however, after a great while, she began to revive, and in about half an Hour she came to herself, but remember’d nothing at first of what had happen’d to her, for a good-while more.
When she recover’d more fully, she ask’d me where she was? I told her, she was in the Ship yet, but God knows how long it might be; Why, Madam, says she, is not the Storm over? No, no, says I, Amy; why, Madam, says she, it was calm just now, (meaning when she was in the swooning Fit, occasion’d by her Fall); Calm Amy, says I, ’tis far from calm; it may be it will be calm by-and-by, when we all [are] drown’d, and gone to HEAVEN
HEAVEN! Madam, says she, what makes you talk so? HEAVEN! I go to HEAVEN! No, no, If I am drown’d, I am damn’d! Don’t you know what a wicked Creature I have been? I have been a Whore to two Men, and have liv’d a wretched abominable Life of Vice and Wickedness for fourteen Years; O Madam, you know it, and GOD knows it; and now I am to die; to be drown’d; O! what will become of me? I am undone for Ever! ay, Madam, for Ever! to all Eternity! O I am lost! I am lost! If I am drown’d, I am lost for Ever!
All these, you will easily suppose, must be so many Stabs into the very Soul of one in my own Case; it immediately occur’d to me, Poor Amy! what art thou, that I am not? what hast thou been, that I have not been? Nay, I am guilty of my own Sin, and thine too: Then it came to my Remembrance, that I had not only been the same with Amy, but that I had been the D
evil’s Instrument, to make her wicked; that I had stripp’d her, and prostituted her to the very Man that I had been Naught136 with myself; that she had but follow’d me; I had been her wicked Example; and I had led her into all; and that as we had sinn’d together, now we were likely to sink together.
All this repeated itself to my Thoughts at that very Moment; and every one of Amy’s Cries sounded thus in my Ears: I am the wicked Cause of it all; I have been thy Ruin, Amy; I have brought thee to this, and now thou art to suffer for the Sin I have entic’d thee to; and if thou art lost for ever, what must I be? what must be my Portion?
It is true, this Difference was between us, that I said all these things within myself, and sigh’d, and mourn’d inwardly; but Amy, as her Temper was more violent, spoke aloud, and cry’d, and call’d out aloud, like one in an Agony.
I had but small Encouragement to give her, and indeed, cou’d say but very little; but I got her to compose herself a little, and not let any of the People of the Ship understand what she meant, or what she said; but even in her greatest Composure, she continued to express herself with the utmost Dread and Terror, on account of the wicked Life she had liv’d; and crying out, she shou’d be damn’d, and the like; which was very terrible to me, who knew what Condition I was in myself.
Upon these serious Considerations, I was very Penitent too, for my former Sins; and cry’d out, tho’ softly, two or three times, Lord have Mercy upon me; to this, I added abundance of Resolutions, of what a Life I wou’d live, if it should please God but to spare my Life but this one time; how I would live a single and a virtuous Life, and spend a great deal of what I had thus wickedly got, in Acts of Charity, and doing Good.
Under these dreadful Apprehensions, I look’d back on the Life I had led, with the utmost Contempt and Abhorrence; I blush’d, and wonder’d at myself, how I cou’d act thus; how I cou’d divest myself of Modesty and Honour, and prostitute myself for Gain; and I thought, if ever it shou’d please God to spare me this one time from Death, it wou’d not be possible that I should be the same Creature again.
